otherversefandomcom-20200215-history
To Wound a Mongoose
'Clanging Gong ' ---- ::''A popular hangout for retired soldiers from the Emperor's Blades who have made this town their home away from the bustle of the palace on Caryas Hill or the usually dull routine of life on patrol atop the Aegis, the Clanging Gong was established by Yontalas Lomasa, but built with help from about a dozen former Bladesmen and Horsemen who served with Yontalas. ::''A scattering of polished biinwood tables surrounds a C-shaped counter for the keep and the kegs of ale. A rectangular fireplace with a polished granite mantel has been built into the eastern wall. ---- Celeste and Vhramis are seated near the fireplace, though the woman is actually in the process of ordering while trying to speak with her companion at the same time. Their voices are lowered, and seem not to be drawing much attention other than any other man in armor and woman in velvets would. Well, it's technically a conversation. Vhramis doesn't seem to be doing the majority of the talking at the moment, mostly looking about blankly to the other patrons. That isn't to say that he doesn't respond to Celeste, though. "Good evening, Lord Marin. I am madly in love with you and desperately wish to replace your wife and send away your children!" A female voice announces. Lord Marin, however, seems in equal parts very preoccupied with his craft and used to such unsubtle and cheerfully false banter. Milora Lomasa makes no secret of her arrival into the tavern and, after begging a glass of ale from a busty barmaid in exchange for a few Imperials, turns to lean against the counter and survey her kingdom. -- That is, the tavern. Celeste turns back to Vhramis, lowering her hands and hoping in part for a good vintage. She seems to be slowly becoming more of the wine connoisseur. "So have you been able to get her back, Vhramis? And would you like to tell me why she is missing," requests the Mikin pointedly concerned. She brushes a hand through her hair, but for the moment her attention remains to the ranger. "Eh?" Vhramis mutters, looking back to Celeste to blink. "Oh. No. No, I believe Mistress Meian still holds her. I've been searching for her, but she seems to have gone missing." He considers that for a moment, looking down to the table, before shrugging slightly. "I'll keep looking." Setting forward, Milora smiles as both a face beneath white-gold hair and a face beneath no hair at all, become increasingly familiar to her the closer she comes to them. "Master Vhramis and Lady Celeste," she greets smilingly. "So very far from your homes tonight. May I join you, or do I interrupt?" Celeste looks up, the woman seeming in mid-sentence, and nods towards the Lomasa. "Of course, I was seeing to a few things with the temple here in East Leg, and Vhramis has been keeping me company on the road." She glances over to the ranger in question, "I can speak with her when I see her again. She had returned home last night, and Lord Seamel and if I had known... " Likewise, Vhramis looks over to Milora with a blink, before nodding his head to her. "She was just kind of coming this way… and so I came too." Glancing back to Celeste, he shrugs again. "I'll find her soon. I hope." Milora goes rather quiet, seating herself at the table and leaning her arms on it while peering quietly at the other two. "Is something the matter, Vhramis?" she asks, inclining her head." "Nothing's the matter," replies the ranger with a shake of his head, settling back in the seat. He clears his throat and looks about the tavern again, shifting a little. Celeste shakes her head, "just settling a few loose ends, is all. How have you been, Lady Milora? You mentioned that his grace has been away for a time, settling into his knighthood, yes?" Glancing at Vhramis with a rather upset expression, Milora gives a sort of heavy half-shrug and nods at Celeste. "Yes. I had hoped that you would come to see me - I am almost all alone at Riverhold. That is, of course I have Anlyssa and the servants and Master Thatcher, but - it feels as though I am alone." Seeming almost a bit surprised at Milora's reaction, Wolfsbane's eyes widen a bit at the girl, staring for a second, before sighing and looking away. Celeste nods, looking over to Vhramis with an odd look before returning her attention to Milora. "You had mentioned that in your letter. How is Anlyssa? I've not seen her since the day with the Burus and Katriana and I were speaking of her just the other day. She must be at least two feet taller than when last we met," she sighs wistfully. Giggling, Milora shakes her head gently. "She is absolutely tiny, and a darling. She is the spitting image of her father, and so I have reason to hope that she attains something of her mother's personality rather. She has the most beautiful silken head of curls, Celeste, and the littlest fingers, and she's already so strong. She speaks easily and often now and I am able to converse with her coherently. I think her the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Looking back to Vhramis, her smiles fades and she seems almost able to ask a question or say something, before she appears to think better of it. "Children are a blessing," states Vhramis with a small nod at that, expression growing wistful for a moment as he stares off towards the wall, lost in thought. Celeste clears her throat, gently reaching out to place a hand to the ranger's forearm. "Yes... they are," she states soft but firmly. Looking back to the Lomasa, "you two should get out of the castle for a bit and possibly go and visit Katriana. I believe she'd enjoy seeing Anlyssa and it would be good to know her. She's a good woman, Milora," she offers in hushed tones. Thankfully, the Mikin is saved by the tendress who finally remembers to bring the glasses of wine for ranger and noblewoman. "She has recently written me, but left no address or place of repose to which I might return her sentiments or find her in person. However, she has hinted at stopping by Riverhold." She pauses, her gaze still locked on the ranger, firm, even and gentle. "I do not see her as a rival or an enemy, Celeste, although I would not blame her if she - among other women - regarded /me/ in that manner." "I knew her when she was younger," shrugs Vhramis at that slightly, tapping at the table. "She's grown some, I believe. But I shouldn't speak of others." He clears his throat and glances to the delivered drinks, reaching to take hold of his wine, staring into the glass. Celeste shakes her head. "I believe at one time she had hopes they'd be happy again. I fear that I even helped at one time to counsel them on the matter. Sadly, too much had changed, and they went their own ways." She glances back to Milora, taking up her own glass as well. "Rivalries are usually only in one's own mind, my lady. If you both truly love one another, then that should be all that matters. You will find far more happiness and friendships than to worry of past slights and emotions." The Mikin glances back to Vhramis, blushing at her own words, "Perhaps I should take lessons from you, Master Wolfbane, and learn to stay my own tongue at times." "Small minds discuss people," Milora says, nodding her agreement with Vhramis. "That is sound advice; it is a flaw of mine that I gossip. Although I mean well, such a topic of speech can do no good." She pauses and then nods at Celeste. "There is real news to be discussed, meant for your ears, Celeste. I know that I can speak freely before you, Vhramis, but will you think me impolite if I do?" "I won't think it impolite," replies the ranger with a shake of his head to Milora, glancing at her and shrugging. "And I won't speak of things, either, at a later time. It's my job to be discrete, in all things." He shrugs again. Celeste laughs softly, raising the glass to hide her lips. "You wish to speak to me about what, my lady?" The Mikin is unable to keep the smile from her lips at the ranger's words. Yet the mirth does not encompass her eyes, those still hold a tired and strained expression. "This will not need repeating," Milora says, smiling at Vhramis briefly before glancing at Celeste again. "My Lady, Norran and I have decided against having you perform our marriage ceremony; we feel as though it would put undue pressure on you." Vhramis doesn't say anything, again, falling quiet and waiting around while drinking his wine with blank expression. "As you wish, I had not thought you would need my services with being a marriage between nobles and needing the sanction of the Regent, unless that has changed. It was offered in friendship to you and the Duke," replies Celeste slow and evenly. Her voice remains calm and retaining nothing more than the hint of veiled softness. "When I found him insulting me to another, perhaps I should have rescinded my offer then. I do wish you both all the happiness that the Light can offer, my lady." Milora looks rather surprised, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head. "I'm very sorry, madam. What insult has my betrothed ever dealt you?" The words are quiet and unassuming, laid down with curiosity and an undertone of mild injury. The ranger grimaces slightly at that, looking to Celeste in some surprise, before simply drinking from his wine. Celeste sighs, shaking her head. "It really doesn't matter, Milora. They are words and bear no bearing on my mind or heart, except to know I've lost a friend. He's a grudge to bear ever since we were in the Verdigris, and does not believe I wish him to be happy... well, I do," She states firmly. Wraping both hands about the glass goblet again, and slowly taking a drink... eyes closing before lowering it to the table to speak again. "You worry too much for slights that are imagined instead of those that may be real," continues Celeste softly. "The love I felt for Norran was that of a first blush to a rose. Never before had someone touched my heart, and made me feel that I was, for a moment, not a monster. Yet, there is a failing to first loves, and that is that it isn't truth, no matter how much you wish that it were. I have may lost a friend in him, but he's not lost one in me. His secrets have I have kept, Milora," she states, again her tone firm. "Whether he would wish to recognize that or not, if they have found voice, it was not by my words." She looks back to Vhramis, blushing at the proclamation. "Such silly and girlish words, Master Wolfsbane," she chides herself ruefully. "Instead we should speak of happier matters, and recognized dreams." "No!" Milora frowns, her eyebrows creasing as she leans across the table. "Celeste Mikin, I have almost had enough of you. And your blithering. For once in your life I wish that you would say something or anything with consistency and reason. Celeste Mikin, I have known you not a year and I have observed several instances in our past which would condemn you as a hypocrite, and I insist that you stop it /immediately/." She slams her hands down on the table around her full glass of ale, her face hard. "Imagined slights exist in /your/ mind as much as they do in my own, except that you are worse than me, because you perceive wrongs in other people. You do not reflect upon any imperfection that may exist within yourself - do not lie! I know that you do not, but I do not expect you to be able to admit to it. A hypocrite is a wildly frustrating thing. You are - you are - you are almost as bad as the sluts, the barons' daughters who smile at you but then speak ill of you behind your back." Rising to her feet, she shakes her head. "You've no just cause to be angry at me, or at my Norran, and there's no sense in saying that you aren't because I can /feel/ the animosity /crawling/ in your voice. You think, and everyone else thinks, that I am nothing more than a child and that I do not understand anything and that I can not /sense/ when someone is not being sincere to me!" She shakes her head again, curls bouncing in an ugly fashion. "You raise yourself above Norran out of vanity, and at once you pretend to be his friend! Celeste Mikin, you are deceptive!" Vhramis looks mildly surprised at the exchange, but that's about it, otherwise sitting and drinking wine and looking between the two and the various patrons. Whistling a cheerful marching tune, the infamous Duke Lomasa innocently wanders into the tavern, dressed in his usual finery, gear and amethyst silk cloak as he walks inside. A somewhat new addition to his appearance might be a finely crafted golden circlet gracing his brow, intricately engraved with Riverhold' seal. And then, of course, his tune abruptly halts mid-tempo at the familiar voice sounding from within the tavern's depths, the young Duke blinking curiously as he looks toward those gathered here. "I suppose the bouquet isn't too bad. But it's too dry," the seated ranger muses, to himself but also likely to anyone who will listen, turning his attention down into the cup to stare at the liquid within. He swirls it around for a moment, before looking up to Celeste, seeming about to ask her of her opinion on it, before remembering that she's in a conversation. Celeste sighs, rising to her feet. Sad and weary from the slump of her shoulders to her very steps, and if one to pay particular notice, they could see the remnants of the red rimmed edges to her eyes. "Then you are blind, Lady Milora Lomasa. I've never once put myself above anyone, only tried to be the friend and priest. Nor have I ever acted in a manner unbefitting my station or a lady," calm and soft - that is the woman's demeanor. Not the calm before a storm, but that of the ancients who speak to the trees, never expecting to hear voice. "You wish to be seen as a grown up, then stop acting a child, my lady. Sling all the insults you wish to me, but denying the truth does not make it real. Only a glass house you lock yourself. You do not wish to believe that I cared for Norran, then so be it... truly is not my place to convince or even allay your fears. Though, I will state this, I kept my word and did not speak to even my matriarch of the poor behavior until it was requested of me." She takes a calm, deep breath, again, not raising her voice in anger or despair. "Hypocrite? Perhaps at times we all play the part, and no man is truly exempt from it. From the moment I first wished to attack a marked mage to now championing them to my own family. I can see how this could be viewed as such. Yet I would call it growth, development, learning to seem beyond the simple walls of my own cage and trying to help others. As much as you wish me to be the viper, I am not, dear lady. Nothing more than a humble woman who stumbles and falls, just as anyone else in this life does. Perfection does not exist, Lady Lomasa, in any incarnate. Flawed is mankind and in so, others of his making." Celeste looks back to Vhramis, and winces. "I believe I should take my leave. Being called a whore and hypocrite by someone who would claim me friend is daunting enough. Best to take what is left of my pride and leave," she says simply to the ranger. Surprisingly, the woman seems somewhat relieved at the female Lomasa's outburst. She dips her head towards the woman. "Light guide and protect you, Lady Milora Lomasa, and I wish you well on your big day. If you could give my regards to his grace as well, then it would be appreciated." Shaking her head again, Milora raises her eyebrows, unmoved. "With all due respect, my lady," she says, her tone much more mild, "kindly shut up. I wonder whether anyone is really touched by the strife that you seem to always suffer. Can you see what you do now? You pretend to be good and Light and always doing the right thing, and perhaps you really believe that you are, but your first motive is to feed your own narcissism. Do not condescend to me." Milora puts her hands on her hips and smiles, her countenance clear and bright. "I loved you, Celeste Mikin, but you have been no friend to me and you have been less of a friend to my Norran. I have given up waiting for a change; it's time that you came down from your high horse. You will find yourself relieved when humility really finds you." Breathing deeply, there's a vague gurgle of mirth from Milora's chest. "Wish him well on your own, my lady," she replies to the turning woman, "I see him now and daresay you will pass him before you meet the door." It's moments like this where Norran likely regrets making himself so obviously... himself. In his armor, claymore over his shoulder, amethyst cloak enveloping him with a golden circlet upon his head. Sneaking away is no option at all. Breathing a faint sigh and appearing only slightly uncomfortable, Norran stands clear of the doorway to wordlessly watch Celeste storm out. Vhramis glancing upward again from his wine, the ranger takes a look over the situation and murmurs something to himself. Another sip of wine and a thoughtful expression follows, before he sets the cup back on the table and rises as well in order to walk calmly out with Celeste as well. "Well… I'd think /someone/ would be worried about the flavor of it," he states to Milora and then the Mikin, seeming quite concerned over the beverage. Celeste shakes her head, laughing soft and rueful. "You never understood, my lady," she says softly, her voice full with sadness and tears reaching the corner of her eyes. "May you always know love and Light, Lady Milora," replies the Mikin sincerely. She maintaining the calm and quiet reserve throughout the outbursts and her own growing sadness, she pauses in her departure at finding Norran close to the doorway. She dips quickly into a bow to the elder Lomasa. "Good luck on your wedding day, your grace. May you find happiness and joy in the arms of the one you love." And with that, she takes a step about the older Lomasa, and continues towards the doorway. "Tears from a wounded Celeste Mikin. How unexpected. Be well, madam." Milora draws her breath and sighs, closing her eyes for a moment and shaking her head. When Celeste is away from her, she gestures almost frantically for Norran to approach her. "Aye," is all Norran answers Celeste wish, reaching a hand up to scratch thoughtfully behind his ear as he looks over toward the gesturing Milora. Straightening his armor, Norran makes his way toward her with calm strides. "Ah, she's just tired. Not crying," shrugs Vhramis with a regretful smile to Milora, pausing again to gesture to the wine. "Really. Try it. Let me know." The glass is considered, before he looks to Norran. "You too. Maybe it'd be better with fruit or...” He pauses at that, blinking as if something occured to him, and lifts a hand to wave as he heads out. "All my love, Vhramis," Milora replies softly, giving a bend of her head in response to the ranger following the retreating lady. From angry, to relieved, to exhausted, Milora now leans her head on the front of Norran's armor. "That was remarkably idiotic of me." ---- ''Return to Season 6 (2007) Category:Logs